


The Reluctant Destined

by SylvaniusOStephans



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvaniusOStephans/pseuds/SylvaniusOStephans
Summary: Disappearing isn't easy for someone that has been considered different his entire life. Octavian Braithson is the color in a land of black and white. He leaves his home town for a book that caught his eye. Little does he know that the book will drag him into secrets that should never see the light. Somehow, Tavian gets chosen by a sickle, overhears a quest doomed to fail, and has to decide what he thinks is right.





	1. Rule One: Scope out the Target I

When it came to stealing, there was one major rule: be as normal as you can. For someone like him, it wasn't exactly easy to do. Appearance wise, he had always been... a bit odd.

From the moment of his birth, he had been different. The rest of his clan was known for their shocking white hair from an extremely young age, and dark green eyes, or, hair as dark as night with eyes to match. He, on the other hand had been born with dark red hair that hadn't lightened when he was seven or eight, and didn't seem to darken either. His eyes were lighter, a bright blue that seemed to captivate all of those who looked into their depths.

For another thing, he was the only one of his six siblings with the dramatic coloring. No one else in the Braithson clan even came close to his looks, thus making him stand out like a sore thumb. Or, at least, he did when he was around his clan.

For this reason, when he had gotten the brilliant idea to steal what was known as the book of secrets, he had left home, and travelled to the next town over.

Ashwin was nothing like home. It wasn't clan territory, for one. While Corydon was a small town where only the Braithson clan lived, Ashwin was huge. There were people from most of the major clans, and some or the smaller ones too. They all seemed to exist in a peace that even Corydon did not have.

Only on special occasions were the different members of the clans obvious. The people blended together in the streets like a delicious pot of stew. Yes, everyone was different, which made him able to pass by without being noticed.

Ashwin had two main uses for someone like him. First, he was able to blend in without having to change or cover his appearance. The second was the city itself. It had alleyways and plenty of places he could duck into for cover. It was nice.

No one would notice a young man travelling though with a small bag. He just had to glance around to see at least a dozen young people carrying a bag of some sort.

He ducked his head and smirked. This would be too easy. The display surrounding his target was full of people. Perfect.

The more people around, the better. At first glance, his target looked like a normal book, with a black and white calf skin leather cover. The pages were yellowing, and probably very delicate.

That meant there was probably someone who would pay a nice amount to buy it from him, after he was done reading it, of course.

The Book of Secrets was no normal book. It was said to hold the secrets of the world in a way that only a chosen few could understand. No one alive seemed to know exactly what it said, which made it perfect for him. He half wondered if it didn't hold the secrets of death as well.

But, either way, it was his next target. And once Octavian Helladius Braithson decided on a target, the stubborn red head would do whatever he had to get his hands on it.

This was far from his first time stealing. He had taken things all his life, going miles away from his home so that no one would be able to identify him. If, by chance, he was spotted stealing, he instinctively knew how to distract them.

His bag was by his side for more than just to hold the book. No, he had a dozen bottled spells, two runic knives tucked in his boots, and a plain looking sickle tucked into his trousers.

But, today, he wasn't looking for trouble, or to actually take his target. No, the first rule was to scout your targets first. He remembered hearing the rules as a child eavesdropping in on a group of drunks. He had long since surpassed them, but that didn't mean he disregarded the rules.

They had kept him from getting in over his head. The rules made sure he had clean thefts. Nothing he ever took could be traced to him. Tavian was careful about that. The biggest reason that nothing could be connected to him was because he didn't need any of the things he stole.

He came from an average family, with an average life. His father was technically in line to be chief, but there were six others ahead of the man. Sure, his looks were strange, but that was the only part, besides his little habit, of his life that wasn't dull.

That was the problem. Tavian knew he had a bigger purpose than to just blend in with a family that was content with the way things were.

On the other hand, he dreamt of a life of danger. He craved the feeling of his heart beating so hard he was afraid it might come out of his chest. He needed the rush.

The worst, or best, part was that he was good at this. He could steal or switch things, and no one would ever suspect him.

Tavian knew how to play this game. He had mastered the rules, and made them his own. He didn't bother covering his head, as that would draw attention he didn't want.

Speaking of attention, he thought with a frown, it seemed as if he had accidentally gained a bit while lost in thought.

He inspected the guards around him through the corner of his eye. They weren't really watching him per say, but they were carefully not watching him.

He hid a frown, moving easily to one of the stalls, as if he was only here for the one item. Luckily, it was a stall he was planning to visit anyway. The owner was a funny old man with knobby knees and a walking stick that he used to hit people who annoyed him. The man was good with bottled spells though.

He could have made them himself, but his own signature would be stuck inside, and could lead to him. No, it was better to simply buy them from someone else.

He picked up a few tiny bottles, single use spells, that seemed random, and grabbed one that he didn't need as well. The duplication spells were always useful, as were the fog spells, and the air burst spells.

Once he had what he needed, he placed them down to pay for the tiny bottles. That was another thing he liked about the man, he didn't over charge like a lot of people did.

Tavian noticed that the men were still trailing him. He hid a scoff as he handed the shopkeeper the coins. Honestly, someone needed to teach them subtly. He placed the items in his bag, ignoring the wink from the shopkeeper.

He continued through the crowds, testing his tails. There were three of them being obvious, and two others that were doing a slightly better job. The most irritating part was that he could tell that they were guards of some sort, but he hadn't taken anything yet.

Tavian was careful to keep his expression neutral. Had they suspected him of something? Were they going to drag him into an alley and beat him to death? Did they admire his hair? Any way he could think of it, this was far from an ideal situation.

His legs led him through the crowded streets, never rushing, but making the occasional stop to shop for things he needed. Every movement he made seemed sloppy, but was done with the precision of a cunning mind. He knew how he appeared, and knew the way he chose to act led others to let their guard down.

Finally, when he deemed even an idiot wouldn't be able to not see the tail, it was time to say something. He moved over towards the weapons caravan, before ducking behind a building. It took less than a minute for his shadows to follow.

Luckily, he was ready for them. Both of his blades were hidden from their sight, having been moved to his sleeves in a casual movement. He doubted he could get away from their murders.

"Why are you following me?"


	2. Rule One: Scope out the Target II

"Why are you following me?" He asked again, as the three exchanged silent looks. He could read the conversation plainly, but didn't show it. Instead, he tapped his foot against the ground impatiently. His arms crossed in front of his chest in a childish pout that he knew wouldn't work. As always when his outer persona came to play, his mind sped up, calculating every word and reaction before he made them.

It was so easy to slip into his outward persona. It always made his skin feel too tight, but he was used to it.

"You are Octavian Braithson, correct?" One guard asked, moving a hand to his blade.

Tavian made a quick decision, letting the mask slide from his face for this conversation. No one would believe them should they say anything. Besides, they knew not only what he looked like, but had somehow learned his name. They were threats to his safety.

He could practically taste their surprise as his eyes hardened and expression blanked. "I suppose," he started slowly, "that depends on who is asking. And why." He twirled a strand of copper hair in his fingers, teasing them with a flash of metal in his sleeves. If he didn't like their answers, he would make sure they wouldn't be a threat.

He was more than ready to leave their cooling corpses in this alley way. But, he would restrain himself for the moment being.

Assuming they didn't make him angry.

"We have heard of your legend, Master Braithson, of the thief who stole a gryphon's egg from its breast." The lead idiot told him.

Tavian snorted. Being a thief and being known was a sure way to make his life end before its time. He did remember that though, an animal breeder wanted the egg of a strange blue gryphon. It had taken longer than he prefered to admit, but he had survived.

He had expected his client to keep quiet about what he had done, or at the least, keep it in the underworld only. These people had clearly never committed a crime in their lives. So, that made him question not only his old client, but these people. He knew that his client worked in the underworld, and that these people would have had no idea how to get there in the first place. 

Honestly, Tavian was sure that they thought the underworld was an actual place. So, that meant they were sent by someone who at the very least dabbled in the world of less than stellar things. He resisted the urge to sigh. He hated dealing with lackeys. And that's what these fools were. 

"Even if I did, do something similar, that is," He said casually, careful to not confirm their statement, "why would I admit it?" 

The leader gave him a dirty smile. "Our job isn't to make you admit things. We are mere disgraced knights." 

Tavian felt his spine stiffen slightly. He didn't like how the man worded that. "And what, may I ask, is your job?" He had a bad feeling that he really didn't want to know what the man was up to this time. 

The smile turned cold, and Tavian felt a curse leave his lips as something pricked his neck. A distraction then. Sadly for them, he had been purposely exposed to most poisons for years. He had been building up a resistance to most basic drugs in hopes of using the surprise to get away should he ever need to. 

He had to get away, back to his clan home, if he wanted any chance of living to see the end of the day. But no, they were surprised by the sudden unsteadiness of the thief. They hadn't known the plan then, he supposed. He was fighting the dizziness and managing to get his feet moving. Despite the drug rushing through his system, he knew this town, while they didn't. He had an advantage. 

He stumbled a bit, using the walls to support himself. He knew that he had no chance of making it to his clan home, but that didn't mean he was out of tricks just yet. 

He locked the location in his mind, careful to attempt, at least, to factor in his less than perfect condition. He could do this, he knew he could. He had an acquaintance here, one that would at least attempt to protect him so long as his life wasn't in any true danger. 

Stumbling, and knowing that he was being followed, he headed towards the one place in the town that he had a chance of being safe. Truthfully, the weapon's master wasn't really a friend, or someone he would trust if he had any choice in the matter at all. The man was smug, with a cruel, knowing smirk that seemed to see into his very soul. It didn't help that most who knew the man thought that he was simply a friendly old man, but Tavian knew better. 

The man could do things with soul magic, creating life of sorts, in the weapons he crafted. Thankfully, Etan owed him a debt. If there was one thing that the man was, it was honorable. He had been trying to repay him for months, but Tavian knew the moment he allowed the man to repay him, he would be stabbed in the back. No honor among thieves and all of that. 

He knew it had to be around here somewhere, and was relying on his sense of touch, seeing as his vision was giving out. He hoped it would be enough, and that he was right. With some luck, Etan would remember who he owed a life debt to.

His legs gave out just a few feet from where he knew the shopkeeper resided, but he didn't have the strength to move. He felt, more than heard, his would be captors compliment his stubbornness.

He didn't want to fall into sleep, didn't want to surrender, or stop fighting, but Tavian knew he didn't have a choice. This wasn't something he could simply ignore and hope it got better.

He took a deep breath, still aware enough to taste the freshly baked bread in the air, before falling into the abyss.


End file.
